


Vocal Exercises

by eponymous_rose



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2271012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eponymous_rose/pseuds/eponymous_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wash has a risky, nefarious plan that needs South's help. It's probably fine, though. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vocal Exercises

"It's for a good cause," Wash said, in a wheedling tone. He'd been standing beside the track watching her run laps for the past ten minutes—their conversation had resumed every time she'd jogged within hearing range.

South dragged her bangs back for a more efficient glare as she passed him. Undeterred, he finally broke into a jog beside her. "Okay," he said. "Yeah, so. Maybe it's not for a good cause. Maybe it's for a bad one. The worst. Nefarious."

Rolling her eyes, South tamped down the beginnings of a grin. "Let's say you're starting to talk my language," she said. "I need details. I could get in deep shit for this. Director's been on my ass lately. I'm sure he's just looking for an excuse to stick me on KP duty again." She glanced at him, sidelong. "Or in the brig?"

Wash waved his arms. "No, no, nothing that nefarious."

"See, now you're losing my attention again," South said, and lengthened her strides from her warmup jog into a loping, long-distance sprint.

Wash kept pace with annoying ease. She made to elbow him—last time she'd tried that, he'd done a spectacular faceplant—but he weaved out of the way. "Listen," he said. "It'll be great. You'll love it. I'll take the fall if we get caught."

"Uh-huh. 'Cause the Director's totally gonna believe the serial fuck-up who lent out official equipment over the serial suck-up who has an uncanny tendency to disappear every time the blame gets doled out."

That brought him up short for a moment; he had to break into a sprint to catch up. "I don't do that."

"Yeah, you kinda do. Remember when the Counselor found Wyoming's still in the baffles? KP duty for everyone. Except you."

Wash scrunched up his face. "You're seriously blaming me for being the only one sober enough to make an escape?"

"Sober, my ass. You crawled into a maintenance vent and got stuck. Maine told me it took almost an hour to get you out of there."

"Traitor," Wash muttered.

"We had a good talk. He likes me. I get him candy on shore leave. And while we're at it..." South cleared her throat. "Cowardice," she said, in her best Director-voice, "is a trait unbecoming our operatives."

Wash shot her a glare. "Sounds like you're making excuses to me. So, c'mon, you in or out?" Then, as South pretended to think it over, "Man. For someone who talks such a big game about cowardice..."

"Fine," she said. "It'll be waiting in your locker this evening. But if you're not gonna give me details, and when someone inevitably finds out you're responsible, I'm telling them about the thing with the rubber duck."

Wash stumbled before matching her stride again. "Holy shit, how long were you and Maine talking?" A moment's hesitation, broken only by their synced breathing, then, "Okay. Okay okay okay. It'll be worth it, trust me."

"See, fucker, that's the beauty of it. I got blackmail material. This way I don't  _have_ to trust you." South tipped her head back and sang, gleefully off-key, " _Rubber ducky, yoooou're the ooooone_ -"

When Wash shoved her, she hooked his ankle with her foot, and they both wound up slinking into Medical with impressive cases of floor burn.

Totally worth it.

* * *

The next morning, at breakfast, Wash was conspicuously absent from the usual table they claimed whenever they weren't deployed somewhere out in the ass-end of the galaxy. South stole a slice of North's toast and chewed thoughtfully, staring at the empty seat between Maine and Connie while York rambled on about last night's Grifball match.

"You're keyed-up today," North said, interrupting the play-by-play.

"Fuck off," South said, instinctively, then realized she'd been tapping her foot against the leg of her chair. She tapped it faster, just to prove a point, and reached across to dunk her toast into the runny egg yolks on North's plate.

North furrowed his brow, but just then Carolina showed up with a murmured apology for her lateness, and for once South was glad for the interruption. North's incipient look of concern shifted tracks seamlessly, and South watched as Carolina slumped into a chair and hunched her shoulders, rubbing at her face with the palms of both hands.

"You look like ass," South said.

"Thanks," she croaked.

"Sound like it, too."

"You sure know how to make a girl feel special, South."

York pushed a glass of orange juice toward her and said, with good cheer that was so determined it just came out as asinine, "Another long night of training, Boss?"

Carolina downed the orange juice in one gulp, then folded her arms on the table and rested her forehead against them. Her hair was a scraggly mess, like she'd washed it, stuck a helmet back on while it was still wet, and hadn't washed it since. The sight was getting familiar, which, you know. Served her right for getting so fucked up over someone actually being better than her. Holy shit, stop the fucking presses.

Connie came up behind Carolina—South hadn't even seen her get up—and quietly deposited a tray of food in front of her before getting back to her seat. South rolled her eyes, tipping back in her chair until North shot her a warning glare.

Carolina ignored the offered food, her head still pillowed on her arms, breathing so heavily that South was pretty sure she'd just fallen asleep at the table. Which, you know. Meant it was probably time to go look for a permanent marker. Then Maine straightened, balancing a spoon precariously in his hands, and flicked a grape at her head. Carolina glanced up, blearily, and he said, "Eat something."

Mechanically, she started in on her toast, with everyone watching like it was the most interesting fuckin' thing they'd seen all day. South was about to excuse herself from the most nauseating display of suck-uppery she'd seen all week when the intra-ship PA system activated, and the Counselor's voice boomed over it.

"Agent York," he said, "Please report to my office to retrieve your teddy bear."

Everyone stopped.

Everyone stared.

"Uh," said York.

Carolina glanced up at him from where she was pushing her eggs around her plate. Her face was very carefully blank. "You better get going, York. Wouldn't want to forget your teddy bear."

"I," said York, then shook his head. "I... don't? Have a teddy bear."

"Nothing to be ashamed of," Connie chimed in. Her poker face was much worse than Carolina's; a smile cracked through at the edges. "We all have our ways of coping, away from home."

"I repeat," said the Counselor, "Agent York, your teddy bear is waiting for you in my office."

York stood up, slamming his hands palm-down on the table. His face was fixed in a nervous smile. "Uh," he said. "I'll just, um. You know. Yeah." He paused for a long moment, then repeated, "Yeah," and bolted from the room.

South's face hurt from grinning, and when she looked over, she saw her own delighted expression briefly mirrored on her brother's face before he remembered to cover it with the palm of his hand.

"What," Maine said. It wasn't a question.

"This is the best day ever," South said, leaning back in her chair again. "The. Best."

Connie raised a brow at Carolina. "So does he?"

Carolina's expression remained unchanged; she methodically cut her toast into bite-sized sections. "Does he what?"

"Well, you'd know, wouldn't you?"

"I have no idea what you're implying, Connie."

"Best. Day. Ever."

The PA system activated again, and everyone lapsed into an immediate, anticipatory silence. This time, it was the Director himself speaking. "Agents, I must ask that you keep closer track of your personal items. It is unacceptable that we must resort to calling you back to return your property. You are not schoolchildren."

A pause, to let this lecture sink in, and then, "Agent York, the Counselor was mistaken. Mister Teddy Beddy Wumpkins is in Operations."

A stunned silence greeted this proclamation. South was pretty sure her brain had just short-circuited from pure happiness, because all she could do was stare down at the table. If she made eye contact with anyone, she would probably explode. Literally explode.

A low thump from the other end of the table made her look up. Carolina was slumped over her tray, her elbows propped on the table, her face resting in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking.

York, having changed course to head for Ops, sprinted past the open doors to the mess hall, yelping, "I don't know any fucking Teddy Beddy Wumpkins, I swear!"

Carolina guffawed. Actually guffawed. That was enough to set Connie into gleeful giggles, and South gave in to her own bursts of laughter, glancing over in time to see North wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. Even Maine was snickering, and South caught him glancing over speculatively at Wash's empty chair.

"Teddy Beddy Wumpkins," murmured a voice behind her in awe, and South turned to see Wash in the doorway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his gut. He seemed, she thought, a little out of breath. Almost like he'd been running. "Oh god," he said. "I'm gonna die."

"You little shit," South told him in a whisper as he passed her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Wash whispered back, and sank into his chair, liberating an apple from Maine's tray with a shit-eating grin.

"Agents," came the Counselor's voice, again. "I apologize for the... fraudulent messages you have just received. We will be investigating their provenance, I assure you. In addition-" A pause. "In addition, Agent York would like it to be made clear that he does not know, nor has he ever known, a teddy bear of that name." Another pause, and then, more resignedly, "Nor of any other name. Yes, Agent York, I believe you have made yourself quite clear. Please return to your duties."

"Huh," South said, beaming. She was pretty sure she was never gonna stop smiling. Ever. "An impostor. Those were pretty solid impressions, though."

Carolina paused mid-bite, serious mien firmly back in place, although she did look suspiciously teary-eyed. "Yeah," she said. "Almost like a voice modulator was involved."

South grinned back wordlessly, then got up to go demand seconds while everyone was still in such an ebullient mood.

York slunk back in before too long, raising his hands to acknowledge the roar of applause at his reappearance. "Yeah, yeah," he said, and slumped back into his chair.

South paused behind Wash, tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey," she said, pitching her voice so only he could hear. "Nice job. Nefarious indeed."

He shrugged. "Again, I have no clue what the hell you're talking about. Besides, whoever did this probably had altruistic motives."

"Uh-huh. How do you figure?"

He shrugged again, this time nodding toward York, who was slumped with his face down on the table. And toward Carolina, who was leaning over York and murmuring something with a teasing grin on her face.

Carolina, who was looking like an actual human being and not a zombie for the first time in weeks.

"Huh," South said, and Wash shrugged a third time. He was looking a bit too smug, though, so she smacked him upside the head. But she did it in an approving sort of way, and his returning glare was spoiled by the lingering smile on his face.

"All right, people," Carolina said, reaching out one hand to ruffle York's meticulously gelled hair as she straightened up. "Fun's over. Let's get back to work."

But her gaze was clear, her step was light, and for the first time in a long while South felt like they might be okay after all.


End file.
